Those Cities Lit By Fireflies
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: A series of drabbles containing requested pairings, from all eras. iv. LunaNeville. v. BellatrixVoldemort.
1. Tedromeda

_For Louise (the-panda-eater) because she's absolutely epically amazing._

_And even though this sucks, she's got me __**mega **__shipping Tedromeda._

_i. Tedromeda_

* * *

Their eyes meet across the classroom as they do every single day, glances of longing and despair being exchanged in an oh so silent manner. It's wrong for them to want one another because, listen, Ted is a Gryffindor and Andromeda is a Slytherin. They should _hate_ one another.

Instead, they're pretty sure they love the other one.

His cheeky personality draws her in, whilst her lack of belief of her supremacy makes him think that maybe – just _maybe_ – one of the most 'noble' pureblood houses may have sired a purely good witch.

Just a shame that she's in Slytherin, really.

There's a streak beneath her that could oh, _quite_ easily be brought up, a side to her that, if given nourishment, would cause her to be one of the most vicious and feared witches of her generation. Yet the moment she saw – like _really_ saw – Ted Tonks in their first year, it was diminished to nothing more than an odd flicker.

He makes her normal, makes her feel as if she ought to be in another house because she absolutely detests everything that her 'family' are doing, and those illicit moments between them make her remember that she's got someone to be with when she leaves Hogwarts. She can get out of the Black household, get out and be with Ted in a little, normal house because he's a Muggleborn and she's pretty sure that she'll be disowned if she leaves with him.

She smiles ever so slightly and he reciprocates it, nodding his head ever so slightly, a steely sense of belief beneath the softness in his expression. He _will_ rescue her; he will relieve her from the family she's been born into because he's confident that he loves her, that he can't live without her.

All she wants to do is leave her family, come be with him openly, in opposition to all the hasty kisses in draughty corridors at midnight (even if midnight is the most romantic time of all). But she's afraid, scared of what her family could do to her – because he can't protect her all the time, can he?

**.**

Her bags are packed: she's eighteen, no longer a student, and she's got no need to be afraid because there's no way that they can hurt her anymore. She's a strong woman with a man who loves her to the point where _their_ love is the example that the Sorting Hat is going to use for interhouse unity for years to come: after all, she's a Slytherin and he's a Gryffindor and they're the strongest couple in the entire year.

(Maybe even the entire decade, but the Sorting Hat isn't going to risk saying that.)

As her arms wrap around his neck and his lips press to hers on the front doorstep of what was her home, they hear a sound that mirrors that of a Muggle gunshot.

Their newly-official relationship has ended with Andromeda disowned, removed from the Black family tree with immediate effect, the sound giving the warning: come back here and we will kill you.

Her hand laces into Ted's as they walk slowly down the street, revelling in the sunlight that oh so soon will probably fade to ashes and grey as the darkness takes over, and she doesn't care about her family.

Because Ted's her family now.

* * *

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_Vicky xx_


	2. BlaiseParvati

_For Amy because I now call her Amsum in my head and idek why. _

_ii. BlaiseParvati_

* * *

They're reduced to illicit meetings in the most deserted of corridors, his hands running through her hair as her lips press to his, leaving them with an imprint of her vivid red lipstick. He's never going to become a Potter-supporter – _never_ – but it's painful to realise that, if it comes to fighting, he's going to have to oppose this girl, engage her in battle because they're on warring sides.

It doesn't matter to them now, as she kisses him, her thoughts primarily focused on how he makes her feel, how he _could_ make her feel in the future, but he knows that it _will_ matter someday. Sometime soon, there's going to be a showdown and he's going to have to fight Parvati Patil, he's sure of it.

"Parvati," he breathes her name against her lips, a wave of ice cold air wafting into the corridor from outside. "We shouldn't be _doing_ this," he whispers, his voice breaking slightly in a way that has never happened to Blaise Zabini before. He's the strong, confident one, not the one who shows his emotions for a girl who he ought to despise, especially as the word _death_ comes into his mind.

She shrugs and lifts her lips from his to look him directly in the eyes, seeing right through into his soul. "You don't care, I don't care," she's more than blasé as she reaches to kiss him again, yet he pulls away ever so slightly.

"You want to be with me?" he confirms, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly as he waits for a response. "You want to be with a Slytherin who hates Potter, a Slytherin who will have to fight against you whenever the time comes? You sure you want to be with me, Parvati, as I'm not going to do this if you're not sure. It's too dangerous."

And no matter what he says, no matter how hard he protests, he knows he wouldn't leave anyway, wouldn't let her walk away.

She's got his heart anyway, the heart of a spoilt, obnoxious Slytherin that she'll probably regret in the future, even though she's no angel either.

Once again, she shrugs and looks away from him, releasing him from her grip. "I'm not going to be soppy and tell you that I can't live without you, Blaise, because I can. I'd just rather not," the Gryffindor stubbornness slips out here and he can't help but smile, though he's not entirely sure if she understands why he is.

He doesn't say another word, simply allows his lips to slip onto hers once again as she leans against the castle wall, no quantifying of their feelings needed because they're here, together, and that's all that matters, she supposes. His arms wrap around her but she can't help but leave a little of her concentration to the area around them, her ears alert for intruders.

After all, they're Blaise and Parvati and they're opposites, one being a Slytherin and one a Gryffindor.

That's a difference big enough to get her killed if they're caught.

* * *

_Don't fav/alert without reviewing, please and thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	3. PetuniaSirius

_For Maddie…I hope she still ships this._

_iii. PetuniaSirius_

* * *

_~x~_

Petunia Evans: she's the girl that you would never expect to find at a magical wedding, the girl who ought to be sitting in her Muggle home doing Muggle things because, frankly, she hates magic and anything associated with it.

Yet she's here, dressed in her best outfit attending a magical wedding because her sister, Lily, is a witch, you know? She's been a witch for years now, something Petunia has always resented – and this is what caused her hatred of the wizarding world…because she isn't part of it.

"Hello, hot stuff," a voice startles her by saying this, his tone appreciative and downright approving as she turns to see him looking her up and down. Her cheeks fill with colour as she stares right back at him, noticing his slightly dishevelled appearance and his long, scraggy hair.

"My name is _Petunia_, not 'hot stuff'," she even completes this with air quotes because she's quite the cheeky madam at merely twenty one, most certainly_ not_ someone to allow such a thing to be said to her.

He rolls his eyes but continues to grin. "I like 'em feisty," he says in response, and yet she can't help but find him charming. Vulgar, naturally, and stereotypical, yet charming nonetheless. "Hello, Petunia, I am Sirius Black. Is that boring introduction good enough for you?" he's heavy on the sarcasm now, something she relishes because it gives her a chance to sharpen her own tongue.

(After all, this Petunia is young and carefree, and verbally abusing wizards is a speciality of her's.)

"No, that's still too wizarding," her tone turns slightly bitter as her mouth twists around the word 'wizarding', due to her hatred of everything to do with it.

He can tell instantly who she is just from her reaction, even though he already knew: she's the magic hating sister of his best friend's bride, the one who shares her sister's looks, yet just not her personality.

His easy grin stays on his face, a new twinkle in his eyes as he steps towards her. "That's not a problem, m'dear, because we can do whatever _you_ want," he plays to her seductive side. "And if that doesn't include talking, so be it."

She rolls her eyes this time, yet can't help but smile. "Come on then, I'll let you take me to my seat," she concedes, wondering if perhaps she could be with him.

(Surely not, eh?)

…

The ceremony is over faster than she thought it would be and now it's time for dancing, for food and drink, something which should be awkward since she knows precisely five people, of which one is the bride, two are her parents and one is the disgusting prat she is now related to.

The fifth one, however, is the charming Sirius Black, whose comments continue to make her grit her teeth, but at least he's different. With him, she gets the feeling that discussing the wedding isn't going to be an issue, as he doesn't seem to _care_, merely pouring shots of some brown liquid down his neck.

She'll be able to get away from "oh doesn't _Lily_ look pretty?" and "isn't this just beautiful?" for a few minutes, just spend time with someone who looks like the rebel of the group, the one with long hair and a twinkle that gives her the impression that he's a ladies' man.

"Oh look, hot stuff – sorry, _Petunia_ – is back," he grins as he sees her approaching, handing her a drink as soon as she sits down.

"Evidently, unless you think I'm just coming over here to sit down because there are _no_ other seats available," she says, her tone heavily laden with sarcasm as she gestures to the seated area near devoid of people.

"Good one, Petunia, good one," he concedes this to her, downing his drink in one and watching it slowly refill as she takes a sip of hers.

And then another.

And then another.

(For the first time in her life, she's _thankful_ for the existence of magic because it gets her drunk a whole lot faster than if she had to go find a drink herself.)

…

Her words begin to slur as she speaks more and more, faster and faster, letting go of the hard-edged bitch façade she shows the world because she's hurting on the inside about being excluded from all this.

(He's not as drunk as he's making out to be, so he can remember her kisses when she kisses him. As he knows she will.)

"Come with me," she mutters, tottering on her heels as she stands and grabs his hand, not taking no for an answer as she begins to pull. Sirius can't help but go with her, even if merely to stop herself from coming into harm's way as she sways through the path of a monster dancing couple.

He finds her pulling him into the secluded back bit of the forest, where trees are everywhere, one of which she's suddenly being pushed against by him. His lips meet hers with a crush, neither of them instigating the kiss themselves, a hazy state of mind fuelled by excess alcohol on both sides.

(But at least he'll remember.)

Her arms wrap around his neck as his hands go to her waist, pushing her hips into his body as her torso rests further against the tree. It's hot and steamy as she, a wizard hater, relinquishes all hold on her ideals and beliefs, just sees the beauty of the man before her.

As he _is_ handsome, she's always been able to admit that.

…

Things end after a few minutes, Petunia being called upon by her parents to wave _perfect_ Lily off, and the haze seems to disappear…and her hatred for witchcraft returns.

"Get off me," she mutters, fixing the sleeves of her dress with a shaking hand as she walks back to the party. "Forget this ever happened, Black, as it means nothing."

The only thing he gets from this is that she remembers his name.

_~x~_

* * *

_Don't fav/alert without reviewing please and thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	4. LunaNeville

_I don't own anything_

_For spritesinger!_

* * *

He shouldn't love her; he shouldn't love _anyone_ – it's too dangerous to hold someone close to your heart in the midst of such a dangerous, life threatening war. As Neville saw with his parents, love is something that can get you killed, something that causes you to crumble and wither if the one you love is taken away from you. And that's something he can't allow to happen; he _must_ fight on and on – for his parents, for Harry.

He _shouldn't_ love Luna Lovegood; he shouldn't be mesmerised whenever she walks past, shouldn't loose himself in the tinkling musical chime that is her voice. They should be focused upon the war, upon destroying Voldemort from within – and yet that's almost impossible.

"Luna," he breathes her name as they sit close to one another in a darkened – well, _all_ of their once vibrant castle has been made to feel oppressive, really – corner, planning their next hijinx to wreak as much havoc within Hogwarts as possible. Yet their plans lay forgotten as he looks into her sparkling eyes, a burning resistance solidified into the back; she's strong, Luna, fierce and brave, determined and loyal, and Neville supposes this is partially what drew her to him.

(She's got the bravery of the lion, just like him, yet also the brains of the eagle.)

"Yes, Neville?" the innocence in her voice astounds him slightly, until he remembers that she's the girl who believes in Nargles, that this is Luna Lovegood. She's the girl who can use her innocence as a weapon because who would expect _her_ to be able to destroy buildings? No, her appearance masks the core of a burning angel, someone with all the purity of angel….yet the power of Hell's minions – someone so undeniably good, with so much power it can barely be believed.

"Doesn't matter," he mutters, ashamed, because whilst he loves her, he thinks she won't care. He can't penetrate those layers of beauty to find the lack of the naivety he thinks is within her – as he thinks the innocence is perhaps the most limiting thing about her. But she's more than a one dimensional person; she's someone able to love and cherish him as _more_ than a friend.

But he doesn't notice.

_~x~_

He returns to Hogwarts and sees her seat empty. His gaze settles upon her quill, the one hastily abandoned last month as they rushed to the train, a pool of dried ink marking their scribing of their last plan – the one clenched within his hand.

Sinking to the floor, he refuses to cry, refuses to allow her 'disappearance' (as that's all he can call it, without his heart ripping to shreds) to destroy their resolve to fight, no matter what, until they're victorious.

He loves Luna...but she isn't here.

So he has to carry on – but, this time, in her name.

* * *

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_Request pairings!_

_Vicky xx_


	5. BellatrixVoldemort

_For Lady Ffion, for she requested this. _

_v. BellatrixVoldemort_

* * *

She can't remember a time when she _hasn't_ loved Lord Voldemort – or, as he is to her, the Dark Lord. He's always featured in her thoughts, her dreams, _everything_, since before she joined his Death Eaters, for he's continually enticed her with his mysterious aura.

There's never been a question of her love for him, a burning desire running so strong that it's evident to everyone around that she loves _Voldemort_, nod Rodolphus. She married him for his name, for the prestige of their two families bonding together as part of the _only_ way forwards for the Wizarding World: Voldemort's circle of followers. Even he knew, as he held her during those long winter nights in the draughty "safe houses" of the countryside, that it was _Bellatrix and Voldemort_, not Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

And now her husband is gone, lost forever to the place where their fallen soldiers go to, and she's able to freely worship her Lord without fear of having to hide her emotions. It's always been plain to see that she desires him, for his lips to press against her own in a frenzied movement that shows he _cares_ for her, and he's well aware of her feelings. Though they're more lust than true, eternal love, Voldemort knows that Bellatrix will continue to be his most loyal servant – because she's infatuated by him. _He_ is who she wants at the end of this battle; not to fight Potter, or to destroy those who oppose their belief in the Dark Arts, but _Voldemort_.

She dreams of him; when she sleeps, her focus is on Voldemort, her eyes raking his form as though willing to know what lies beneath those feather-light robes, then lingering on his face as she imagines what it would be like to feel the skin of her true love beneath her talon-like fingers.

Then there's the final stage of her dream, the one that lingers just beyond her as she sleeps, the one that comes just as her consciousness begins to rouse from its slumber: the moment when her lips press onto his, no fancy actions or "red hot flames of passion" erupting, for it's merely love, pure and simple.

(Well, it's infatuation, but to tell Bellatrix Lestrange that would be to give yourself a death sentence.)

As she wakes, she finds herself desiring those dreams to be true: for this is the only way you could compare Bellatrix to a _normal_ woman – her lust is the one thing about her that saves her from becoming someone so damaged, so ruthless, that she begins to form a mutiny against her leader.

But, as she moves through the day, he doesn't call her away by herself to tell her he loves her; this is the Dark Lord, after all, and she can never recall him ever believing in love…or even lust, for that matter. He's just amused by her infatuation with him; he doesn't desire her and he never will.

Yet he'll tell her that she's special and his most faithful follower, something she revels in hearing, because he knows that it will keep her _just _close enough to prevent her leaving him and joining forces with someone else to create an unstoppable team that could try and take on even him.

So he manipulates her emotions and tries to make her _think_ there is a chance for something between them, even though she's aware, deep, _deep_ down, that there isn't.

* * *

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_Feel free to request a pairing._

_Vicky xx_


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